Careers Advice'
by headcanonsandmore
Summary: In the years after the war, (at the insistence of Hermione) Ron has a careers advice meeting with Professor McGonagall. Ron might not be that confident in himself or his own abilities, but his former teacher has a higher opinion of the insecure redhead. And -as Ron soon discovers- so does Hermione...


It had been two years since the war. The wizarding community of the United Kingdom was finally settling into peace and calm. It was the new millennium, and it seemed an opportune time for reinvention. At least, those were the words that Hermione had used.

'You really should consider careers advice, Ron.' The bushy-haired witch was stretched out on their bed, a large careers leaflet in her hands. Ron was sat on the edge of the mattress as he polished his shoes; a habit he had fallen into after going to so many Ministry functions with Hermione. 'It's open to all Hogwarts alumni.'

'Unlike you, I never actually graduated Hogwarts, 'Mione. Remember?'

'So, that letter from Professor McGonagall last week was just confirming that, was it?'

Ron chuckled. His girlfriend knew him too well.

'Okay; fine. She was suggesting that I consider accepting her recommendation for an honorary diploma. Happy?'

Hermione reached out and tenderly traced a line down Ron's back with her finger, a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

'_Very._'

Ron's mouth stretched into a smile.

''Mione, we have to go to that party at the Auror Office in half an hour.'

'It _starts_ in half an hour-'Hermione chewed her bottom lip and played with a strand of her bushy hair '-We can be… _Fashionably late_, if you want-'

'MR WEASLEY!'

Ron was brought out of this _highly enjoyable_ memory by the sharp, sobering voice of Minerva McGonagall.

Struggling to recompose his face (which was probably now a deep red colour), Ron entered McGonagall's office and sat down in the chair stood before the desk. He had been stood outside the office for well over ten minutes, but had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed his former teacher repeatedly calling his name.

'Now, Mr Weasley, as you have _finally_ decided to come when called,' Professor McGonagall said, eyeing Ron with exasperation over her spectacles. 'I suggest we begin the careers advice session.'

No matter how old Ron got, whenever McGonagall spoke to him, he always felt like he did at the age of fifteen; uncomfortable, nervous and worried that he'd messed up his Transfiguration essay. He imagined that most people felt like this with their former teachers, but McGonagall was especially strict compared to most.

'Er, yeah,' he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. 'I mean, I know that I don't have much to go on-'

'Mr Weasley, do not sell yourself so short,' interrupted McGonagall. 'If I remember correctly, you received seven O. during your days at Hogwarts. Or is my memory failing me?'

'Well, yes. I did get seven.' Ron said, feeling uncomfortable as he always did when people praised him. 'But I never really excelled in any of them. Not like Harry or Hermione-'

'And I was under the impression I was giving career advice to _Ron Weasley_, not Mr Potter or Miss Granger. You have seven O. , a perfectly good amount of qualifications, not to mention your various extra-curricular activities.'

'You mean Quidditch?'

McGonagall rolled her eyes. She had the air of someone running out of patience.

'Not _just_ Quidditch, Weasley. Although, you certainly proved your mettle in that respect. No; I mean all the things you've done.'

Ron sat puzzled.

McGonagall sighed.

'Mr Weasley, did it _escape_ your notice that you were instrumental in saving the wizarding world from Lord Voldemort?'

'Oh,' said Ron. 'That.'

'Yes, _that_.' Professor McGonagall said. 'You have repeatedly shown yourself to be brave, heroic, as well as having an immensely intelligent strategic mind. As such, you have many different career options open to you. You are currently interning at the Auror office; is that correct?'

Ron nodded. He did enjoy working with the Aurors, but he never felt like it was really for him. Of course, he had wanted to become an Auror whilst at school, but, after all that had happened during the second war, he didn't feel like the profession suited him. Not to mention…

'Well, it's what Harry wanted to do, and I could hardly not go with him.'

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

'Mr Weasley, are you seriously trying to tell me that you are in the Auror office just because you thought you would be _abandoning_ Mr Potter if you chose something different as a career?'

Ron squirmed in his seat.

'Well,' he mumbled, not looking the professor in the eye. 'Not in quite the way you said it, but… yeah.'

McGonagall sighed. She seemed to deflate slightly in her seat.

'I had known for a long time that you felt overlooked compared to Potter, but I never realised it was that bad.'

Ron looked down at his feet; he wasn't used to seeing the usually stoic McGonagall like this.

'Ronald,' McGonagall said, making Ron even more uncomfortable; he had never heard her call him by his first name before. 'I assure you; you won't be abandoning Potter if you want a different career to him.'

'But what career would I be suited for?' Ron muttered, feeling very self-conscious. 'I'm hardly a genius like Hermione, am I?'

'I don't remember _Miss Granger _defeating my giant chess set at the age of twelve.'

Before Ron could answer, Professor McGonagall had summoned several different career pamphlets from a nearby drawer.

'SO, YOU WANT A CAREER IN WRITING?' screamed one pamphlet. 'WANT TO MAKE A SPLASH IN BAKING?' bellowed another.

'Professor, I don't think any of these will-'

'Weasley,' said McGonagall, as if she hadn't heard him. 'Your core strengths are strategy and perseverance. You might not always have the raw natural talent of some of your peers, but you work harder than anyone else if you really want something. I would therefore recommend a career based on something you love doing.'

'But _writing and baking_-?'

'You enjoy them both, do you not?'

'How did you-?'

'Miss Granger seems has a higher respect for you than you have about yourself.'

Ron tried not to grin.

_Merlin, he loved that bushy-haired know-it-all…_

* * *

Five years seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye. Ron was cooking breakfast while Hermione read _The Daily Prophet_, sipping her morning coffee.

'There's another review of those new Wheezes products in here.'

'Oh, not this again, 'Mione…'

'People like them, Ron!' Hermione exclaimed, climbing out of her chair and wrapping her arms around Ron's waist; making goose-bumps erupt up the redhead's back. 'I'm surprised no-one ever thought before about making confectionary to help people with mental health issues…'

Ron didn't know why no-one hadn't thought of it either. It had been so obvious to him when he had started at WWW; a lot of people needed support and help, and why shouldn't they have confectionary to help do that? From PTSD brought on by the second wizarding war, to anxiety and depression, Wheezes now had a range of products to help people. And, of course, Ron had made sure to keep the prices as low as possible. He knew what it felt like to not afford things he needed, and he had no wish to inflict that on other people in the same position.

'What did the review say, by the way?' he asked, trying to keep his heart-rate normal as Hermione's soft hands tenderly squeezed his lower chest.

'Ten out of ten, five gold stars, etc., etc.,' Hermione said, nuzzling into his back. 'Which, considering who is making the sweets, doesn't surprise me in the slightest.'

'Very funny, love.'

'I'm serious!' Hermione said, smiling up at him. 'Those sweets are a great idea, and they're helping so many people! You really should be proud of your achievements more!'

'I'm just making sweets for a joke shop.'

'And making a lot of people very happy. Just like you make me happy.'

''Mione, I can't cook if you keep flirting with me.'

Hermione giggled, causing Ron's ears to go red.

'Well, I'm not stopping anytime soon, Ron.' The bushy-haired witch grinned, a roughish look forming on her mouth. 'Unless you try and make me stop.'

Ron raised an eyebrow, before dropping the now-cooked scrambled eggs onto two plates nearby.

'Hermione Granger, is that an invitation?'

Ron felt Hermione's arms loosen around his waist, and he turned round to look at her. She was leaning against the breakfast table, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

'Yes, Mr Candy-man. _Yes it is…._'


End file.
